A very short story about Basorexia..

I think someone put a hex on me.
And not even a good one.
I usually sleep in on Sundays,
but some intense force drug me out of bed at 7 a.m.
Stupid force.
After showering, I got dressed and
had breakfast. I wasn't even exactly sure where I was going.
But, I was going.
Before leaving my apartment,
I checked my appearance one last time
to make sure I was at least a 6 that day.
I did a triple take in the mirror because
my lips were looking exceptionally grand just then.
Oddly grand.
I ran a finger over them to make sure they were mine.
Softer than usual, I giggled for having to question myself.
"Of course they're mine." "That's just silly."
After having a drawn out conversation with myself,
I knew it was time to go.
The sun was looking  glorious that day
but all I could think about were my lips.

I saw my neighbor at the mailbox.
I usually just wave, but there that force was again,
pulling my lifeless body over to see her.
Her lips started to move around as if to say something to me.
She then asked me if I wanted a kiss! Was she reading my mind?
I did not hesitate.
I leaned in, closed my eyes, and puckered my juicy
unchapped pout for some of her sweetness.
Because that's what neighbors do, they lend you sugar.
What a sorry justification that was.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Parker was offering me a Hershey's kiss.
I froze with embarrassment as she leaned back and took off
into her apartment.
She left the entire bag of kisses with me.
As I power walked away, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Parker pull their curtains back in dismay. Whispering and pointing in slow motion.

I  decided I can never go back to my apartment again.
The shame has me wondering the streets,
consumed with this undeniable force,
trading chocolates for kisses.